


keep your knuckles clean

by Cloudnine101



Series: Stormpilot Stories [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Rescue, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You're still alive," Finn says to Phasma. She's staring down at him, holding her gun. "Guess I should've figured." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Your - friend," Phasma says. "The pilot. Where is he?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep your knuckles clean

"You're still alive," Finn says to Phasma. She's staring down at him, holding her gun. "Guess I should've figured."

"Your - friend," Phasma says. "The pilot. Where is he?"

Finn clenches his jaw and his fists. "I don't know."

"Where is his group? We know you were following our ship."

Finn tries to keep his face blank. He's fighting down a smile.

"Poe's not coming back," Finn says, and he could laugh - _of course he isn't._

Phasma hits him once, hard across the face. "The _group_ ," she's hissing, "where is the _group_?"

"I don't _know_. They could be out of the star system. I was the one who got caught, not them." Finn nods. "This place is just the way I thought it'd be. You guys need to get a new paint job. Nobody should be exposed to this much grey."

Those were Poe's words, back at the base. Finn had been telling him about the ship. Poe had said, _nobody should be exposed to that much grey_. He'd smiled as he did, so Finn'd known he was teasing, and they'd laughed about it together.

Finn's plucking at the sleeve of Poe's jacket, over and over again. It's going to be the thing to hold him together, he knows. Even after all this time, Finn imagines it still smells of Poe - sweet and rich and earthy, just like the day they met.

"The jacket," Phasma says. The Trooper on her left - Finn refuses to think of his number - steps forward.

"No," Finn says, "that's mine. You hear me?"

He starts yelling it, after a while. He holds onto it for as long as he can, and then they hit him once so that he falls to his knees and pull it away. Finn closes his eyes.

They lead him back to the cell. Finn's feet scrape the floor. He counts the wall brackets - five, then six, then seven - trying to work out where he is. He can't remember. His head's blurring - he can barely see through the tears, and Poe's going to be so _disappointed_.

 

.

 

The guards come again after a while. They have a bucket of water and soap. At first Finn thinks he's going to be drowned, so he tries to press away from them. All the do is wash him - tearing away, scraping and scrubbing, until he's just like them, and there's nothing left of himself.

"Screw you," Finn says as they leave, one after the other, because that's the kind of thing Poe would do. Poe probably wouldn't be sitting here in scrubs, alone and shivering. He'd have found a way out.

The door's locked, naturally. There aren't any gaps in the walls, or hatches, or port holes. It's a metal box, around five feet wide by six feet tall. When Finn stands, his head scrapes the ceiling. He paces it out.

This one time, Poe had been caught by Imperial Guardsmen. He'd been impersonating a Prince's concierge for an operation, and he'd been caught. Shoved inside a cell, Poe had watched through the glass as the Officer in charge had cranked up the heat. It'd been a close call, Poe'd said, eyes far away, chewing his lip raw.

"Least I'm not roasting," Finn says. He rubs at his arms.

 

.

 

They don't feed him for a day and a half. By this time, Poe has appeared against the far wall. He looks identical to the real Poe - except for the fact that he doesn't speak, which is stupid. Finn can hold both sides of the conversation, though.

"You took your time," Finn says. Phasma steps through the door. A guard binds Finn's hands together with cord, and holds him in place from behind. Finn's eyes stray to Poe; he's smiling slightly, looking Finn's way, tossing a ball up and down and up.

"What do you know about the - Resistance?" Phasma says.

Where they fly, Finn wants to say. Their air-routes. Their trading ports. Poe's favourite bars. Rey's training centre. Luke Skywalker's hut, on the outskirts of the yard. The guns Poe shoots on the firing range, hitting target after target, releasing blank after blank.

"You'd have just used the Force on me, if you could," Finn says. "That would solve your problem. But you can't, because Ren's gone, hasn't he? He's left you. You're on your own."

Phasma punches him. The blow makes Finn curl inwards, clutching at his stomach. Spittle bubbles up between his teeth. He chuckles.

"You've lost," Finn tells her. He meets her eyes - or where her eyes should be, beneath the visor. He can see his own face. At some point, his left eye's been bruised.

 

.

 

After that, Finn has a bucket to piss into, and food and water once a day. He decides to ration it, even though he's getting enough - they could start withholding it at any time.

When Rey first met Luke Skywalker, he wouldn't give her any food she hadn't caught herself. She'd spent the first week on her hands and knees in the bushes, desperately looking for caterpillars. Rey's face always twitches as she says it - "I'd always thought being a Jedi would be - grander."

Finn tries keeping count of the hours, but he can't - not when there's nothing to measure them by. They all seem to blur together. A lot of the time, he doesn't even get to see Phasma. A guard comes in and asks him questions, which Poe doesn't answer. He doesn't speak at all, unless he's alone and it's with Poe.

"When we get out," Poe says, long legs stretched out along the floor, "we're going to go out flying together. Just you and me. How does it sound?"

"Like a plan," Finn says.

 

.

 

"Tell me what you know," Phasma bites. There's something feral in her gaze - must be. She's by herself, today, pinning him against the wall by his throat. "I will let you live if you do."

"Don't give her anything, hero," Poe says, behind him, so Finn shakes his head.

"Why?" Phasma says. It seems to hold - more, somehow.

Finn says, "'Cause I love him."

 

.

 

He doesn't see Phasma again. They're waiting for something - everybody is. Finn can feel it. He's going to die. They're going to shoot him. He's held on for as long as he could, and now they're going to kill him. The door opens.

That's just the kind of thing they'd do - bring in somebody with Poe's face to comfort him; tell him that everything's going to be fine, and then shove him down over and over again, eyes open and blinking in dirt.

"I'm here, Finn," Poe says, "we've got you. We're going home."

Finn pitches forwards and wraps both hands around his neck. Poe's breath shakes against his skin. Finn kisses him once on the side of his face, and one again on the mouth - a short, pretty chaste press, really. It's enough to make Poe gasp.


End file.
